


Perfection

by chesapeake ripoff (turnofthesentry)



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Hearing Voices, M/M, Mental Disorder, Multiple Personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnofthesentry/pseuds/chesapeake%20ripoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both have two very separate people inside of them. Kink meme fill. Warnings in the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfection

There were some battles that were just impossible to win. Not on the battlefield -- Norman was always confident in his ability to take advantage of every opportunity. He _could_ win every battle, he just…

Didn't.

Somehow, knowing that he could never win this one was eerily comforting. The onus of failure or success wasn't on him. He'd sensed that in Bob, as well, and perhaps that was a strong contributing factor in what attracted him initially. Beyond everything else, of course -- Bob appealed to Norman on a variety of different levels, both aesthetic (it was pointless to deny that Norman had a thing for blondes) and on a more fundamental level. Bob almost _defined_ masculinity, which Norman had always valued as highly important. Power.

But it was the fundamental similarities that made Bob _fascinating_ and not just eye candy. He wanted to possess every aspect of that power for himself.

_I deserve it,_ his mind whispered, as he stalked the halls of the Avengers Tower at 3 AM, searching the labyrinth for his prize.

_Yes, you deserve it._

"Norman?" Bob breathed softly, in the darkness. He was giving off a slight glow, easy to find. Norman's hands felt around, sliding on skin, eyes large and trying to see through the darkness. He felt Bob inhale.

"You're not him, are you?"

Norman bared his teeth, fingers stroking hair. Bob's hands found tentative purchase on Norman's hips, though the uncertainty in the touch was obvious.

_Him?_

"I'm not the Void," he assured, undoing his belt. His mind was whispering encouragement, louder, more urgent. _I deserve it all. All this power under my control only._

_Yes, you do. Go on._

"No…" Bob's glow strengthened, illuminating both their faces. "You're him, aren't you? Like you told me," his voice was barely audible. "What you used to be."

Norman had climbed onto Bob, straddling his hips, fingers tugging at the slick golden costume. (Bob didn't have to sleep, did he? He was only in bed at Norman's prompt, telling him he should treat himself like a normal person. Go through the normal motions. Really. As if he could ever -- should ever -- be _normal_.) His eyes widened, finding their bearings in the darkness.

_Just take him, Norman. He's yours now. He'll be compliant, you know he will. All that power, Norman. Yours. **Ours.**_

He inhaled, blinking away the voice. His body moved on its own accord, rubbing his hips forcefully against Bob's clothed lap. "Mine! _Mine!"_ He snapped, grabbing Bob's face and claiming it with his mouth. Trying to shut out Goblin's voice until it faded to a dull whisper, taunting and mocking his possession. Encouraging him, demoralizing him, fueling his paranoia. His nails tracked uselessly at Bob's cheeks, sliding across them without a mark as if they were marble.

Bob stroked his thigh, stroked his neck. He let his glow peter out like an extinguished candle, allowing them both the privacy of the darkness.

He understood, Bob did. Being pulled in two directions. Norman could deny the Void's existence until his face turned blue, but he still _knew_. Norman wondered if he would be as crazy as Bob, were the Goblin to manifest in the same way.

God forbid, he thought. That corrupted aspect of his brain had already taken on much more life than it ever had any right to. It was its own spectre, a living voice. It didn't try to destroy the world -- only sanity.

_Normaaaaan. Don't ignore me, Norman. I want to help you, you know._

"Bob!" Norman snapped, inhaling sharply, looking for a distraction. The Green Goblin was always so much louder in the dark. Bob slid down Norman's pants, stroking his thigh again, now bare. Norman bit his lip, breathing hard.

_You can't mark him. You can't even touch him unless he lets you. What does that say? Oh go ahead, pretend you're taking him all for yourself. I have as much as you have, Norman. He isn't important, as long as we have each other._

No -- that wasn't right at all. It wasn't solely the power of a million exploding suns or the kinship that Norman wanted, it was Bob himself. The idea of Bob.

It was impossible. This was temporary, and Norman was aware of that. Bob and Norman's morals couldn't align less, hero or no; no matter what Bob believed Norman was or wanted to do, at the end of the day the only thing that united them was their defects, not their beliefs. The perfection Norman was in awe of didn't exist, it was still inherently flawed -- even if he pretended it wasn't for the good of everyone involved.

"Please--"

"Shh."


End file.
